


Broken Ace

by Trainmaster64



Category: Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends, Thomas the Tank Engine - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dark, Depression, Despair, Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Gay, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, References to Depression, Romance, Sad, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2018-11-22 16:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11384004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trainmaster64/pseuds/Trainmaster64
Summary: After Sailor John has been captured and the pirate treasure recovered, Thomas is crowned a hero. But heroes sometimes fall, and who will pick them up again? Ryan comes to the rescue of the little blue engine as he fights a foe far worse than any pirate or engine - himself.





	1. Chapter 1

"... and you, Thomas, are my Number One." The Fat Controller finished proudly, a smile on his face as he spoke to his battered and worn-out tank engine. The morning had seen a massive number of events, including the theft of a pirate longship and his own office being demolished, but the important thing was that the scoundrel behind it all was caught and that Thomas was now safe.

Thomas simply stared for a moment, unsure if he was hearing correctly. He was the Number One again? The Fat Controller liked him once again? Everything could easily go back to the way it was again? All was well?

... except it couldn't, and it most certainly was not "all well".

"... b-but..." the tank engine started, his voice small as he struggled. "... but I failed... the treasure is gone..."

"Thomas," the man said with a gentle smile, "I already told you there's nothing to worry about. You're much more important to me than any-"

"No I'm not."

Everyone froze, shocked. Ryan, Rocky, the workers. The Fat Controller looked as if he had been hit in the face with a shovel. Even Thomas was stunned, shocked by his own words.

"... Thomas? Of course you are," the Fat Controller said, uncertainly.

"No I'm not, sir... I f-failed..." Thomas spoke quietly, his voice starting to break as he spoke what needed to be said hours, days, weeks ago. "I lost the treasure, Sailor John got away, I n-nearly blew up Ryan..."

Ryan looked away respectfully. He had thought that Thomas and he had made peace after that incident; from the way Thomas spoke though it seemed as if he hadn't made peace with himself. 

"Thomas, I-"

"I lost the e-express coaches," Thomas continued, his voice rising in pitch as his face quivered and grew damp. "G-Gordon and Emily and the others, they all m-must hate me... I'm not w-worthy of being your engine..."

"But Thomas-"

"It's true, IT'S TRUE!" Thomas was now sobbing helplessly, losing control. All of his inner pain and anguish, his self-loathing and weeeks of neglect and torment and anger and jealousy and rage and despair were now boiling over, pouring out of him and drowning him in darkness. "I don't d-deserve to be your engine; I failed... I failed... I... I..."

"You what, Thomas?" asked the Fat Controller gently, his heart breaking.

Thomas didn't reply, sobbing softly on his flat truck.

"Thomas, answer me-"

"I WISH I WERE SCRAPPED!" Thomas bellowed, so loudly that even Captain and the salvage team stopped what they were doing out at sea. "I WISH I WERE GONE! I DON'T DESERVE TO LIVE! I'M A FAILURE! I FAILED!"

And Thomas burst out sobbing, wailing as he shuddered on his truck, almost trying to shake himself to pieces there and then, to rid himself of himself, to end and cease there and then. It was only after he had finally passed out from overexertion that he could be taken to the Steamworks by Ryan, quietly.

As he left the Fat Controller stared, deep in thought. He looked to the crane and engine near him, but found no reply to his unspoken query. His heart heavy, all he could do was walk slowly away - he felt older than he had ever felt before in that instance, as the image of Thomas' tormented face burned.


	2. Chapter 2

Ryan was a complete worrier, in every sense of the word.

Oh, he certainly tried to be brave. He attempted to be strong and confident in himself. He worked his hardest to exude confidence and capability in every puff that came from him, every wheel turn and every motion he made. He gave his every effort in being a brave engine, and Gresley be damned if he was going to be anything but.

And yet he was still a coward. Things still made him nervous and afraid, rocked him to his core. It could be normal, rational fears like a train of lit dynamite nearly blowing oneself to smithereens, or else a massive pirate ship running loose and threatening to destroy everything in its path. Or it could be internal fears, like worry of having done wrong by a small blue engine who simply would not like you or tolerate you no matter what you did to be friendly and supportive.

And then there was this kind of fear, as Ryan sat outside the Steamworks and pondered. A deep fear and concern of something very and truly wrong with his new friend, as he waited in the sidings near the Transfer Table. His steam swirled weakly as he waited for news of Thomas; the little engine had been unconscious for the entire trip; it had been across almost the entire Island, and he had not moved.

Ryan waited and wondered. He knew something was wrong with Thomas, he knew the little engine was not well, not all right inside, no matter what he said - he knew that Thomas had concerns and worries and fears inside, and yet Ryan could do nothing for him. It was a deep helplessness that shook him to the core; he felt weak and scared and alone. Thomas was so vulnerable...

... Thomas was scared...

... Thomas felt worthless and ready to die...

... and in that instant, Ryan knew where his heart lay and what he must do next.

"Victor? I say, V-Victor?"

The small red engine puffed out of the Steamworks, slowly moving to see Ryan. The engine was worn and weary, his eyes tired and his whole body seemingly shaken with fatigue and concern like Ryan felt. In that instance he looked like he truly was over a hundred years old. "Yes, my friend?"

"H-how's Thomas?" Ryan asked softly. "D-did he wake up yet?"

Victor closed his eyes, thinking and remembering. "He did, Ryan; I can't talk to you about it-"

"Damn it, Victor, I have to know!" Ryan jumped as well; he hadn't expected such vitrol and tension from himself. "I mean... I'm w-worried..."

"... and you're not the only one, Ryan," Victor said evenly, as he collected his thoughts. "I may not be a psychologist, but I know that Thomas is hurting very much right now. He is suffering from mental trauma after everything that happened to him; he told me what happened... I got it from him..." Victor's voice shook with emotion. "Can you tell me what you saw happen with him over the past two weeks?"

Slowly, painstakingly, Ryan recounted all he had known and seen and been a part of, from his arrival to the present. As he finished Victor's eyes narrowed and his face fell. 

"What is it, Victor?" Ryan asked, pleadingly.

Victor sighed. This would not be easy. "I am afraid that I cannot let Thomas return to his active duties. In fact, I think it is best he not return to service indefinitely. In his current state, he is certainly suffering from mental trauma and anguish; he feels worthless and has no regard for his own life. I cannot let him leave the Steamworks, or else he could take things too far..."

Ryan gasped, horrified as tears fell from his eyes. "He m-may try to kill himself?"

"He might, if we do not help him."

"Anything, Victor. I'll do anything to help him..." Ryan's voice was shaking, his tears brimming over.

If Victor suspected anything of Ryan's feelings, he kept it to himself. "Be his friend and be there for him. He needs that more than anything. And in the meantime," he said as he puffed away with venom in his voice, "there are some individuals who must know what they truly did."

As Victor left, Ryan slowly puffed into the Steamworks. Thomas was still not yet repaired or restored, almost asleep. He was slowly waking from his deep rest; slowly, Ryan waited. He watched and wheeshed softly, soothingly, to try to ease his tension. 

And as soon as Thomas woke up fully, he began to cry and sob, shaking where he stood on the turntable, his heart full of self-loathing as Ryan's heart broke. Slowly, the purple engine moved forwards and touched Thomas' buffers, holding him and letting him cry into him.

"Oh Thomas..." Ryan murmured into the smaller engine as they both wept. "... what have they done to you..."


	3. Chapter 3

They remembered they were at Knapford Station, eagerly awaiting their engine to return to them. The two coaches, old and in need of paint, but still really useful like their Number One, waited patiently for their Thomas to return to them. With the Branch Line project finished they were to have their engine returned to them; Percy was a fine engine but not the same as Thomas. Annie and Clarabel missed their friend terribly, and longed for his return. And after the evening a few days ago, when their Thomas raced past their shed-

"Peep Peep!" A whistle echoed through the yard; a whistle they knew but wasn't theirs. Percy, once again; and he was puffing towards them, his face full of sadness. He usually pulled them smokebox-first like Thomas, and never seemed sad...

Annie was first to notice, being in the front. "Percy? What are you doing here?"

"Where's Thomas?" Clarabel chimed in. "You told us that Thomas was to pick us up today."

"Percy?" Annie spoke, and Clarabel felt a shiver in her frames. It was a voice Annie used rarely, one of worry and fear and concern. It was the same voice that she used back in the old days. "What's going on?"

Percy said nothing at first, gently buffering into them and letting his driver couple them up. He looked ready to cry; the coaches were deeply worried. Their hearts were sinking. 

"Did something happen to Thomas, Percy?"

Finally, Percy spoke, in a quiet and hurt voice. "Thomas is at the Steamworks; they say he has depression and trauma. I'm taking you to him now; two other coaches are going to take care of the branch line. Toby will work it with me for now."

"Thomas!"

"What happened?!"

"Our Thomas, depressed?"

"Who did this to him?"

"What happened out there?"

"PEEP PEEP!" Percy whistled loudly, his 'do-as-I-say' whistle echoing through the yards and silencing the panicking coaches nicely. 

Then Clarabel shuddered, softly beginning to weep. Her eyes grew moist, the coach trembling from fear and angst over her engine and Percy's roughness. It was too much; the coach cried helplessly, feeling alone. "P-Percy..."

Percy sighed softly, his own heart breaking. "I'm sorry Clarabel... sorry Annie... I don't know the answers; he's not talking to anyone much... he just cries a lot of the time..."

As they puffed dutifully to the Steamworks, Percy explained all he knew about what had happened at the Branch Line Extension. The little green engine steamed through the lush countryside, telling the coaches all that had happened, as far as he knew. By the time they arrived at their destination, the coaches were in a stunned silence. 

"... how could they..." Now Clarabel's voice was thick with emotion; rage and anger welling up inside of her. "... they abused him..."

"Quite right Annie... those ungrateful individuals..."

"You know what I think?" Percy asked as they arrived. "I think it was the three of them that did it. Gordon, the Fat Controller, and that Pirate man. Thomas made mistakes and was bad, but he tried to be good and do good. And what happened?"

No one answered. At that moment they had entered the Steamworks and saw the state of Thomas.

The little blue engine was absolutely broken and defeated. His bodywork and paint were restored but his spirit was dead and destroyed. Thomas' eyes were dark, and he seemed to almost sag on the rails, as if he were tired of existing and wished for nothing more than to disintegrate where he stood, unwilling to exist and live and continue on.

"... h-hello Thomas," Percy called tentatively to his friend. "It's Percy... remember me?"

Thomas looked up, and then down again, a faint sigh the only recognition or notice of his friend.

"... I brought Annie and Clarabel... I thought they could cheer you up," Percy said with as much cheeriness as he could muster. His smile was massive and false and full of deep hope.

Another weak sigh, a slow blink of his weary eyes.

Slowly, Percy rearranged himself and the coaches, aligning them next to the silent tank engine. Annie on one side and Clarabel on the other, so both could see him and talk to him. It looked beautiful and sweet.

A tear trickled from Thomas' eye, dripping to the end of his nose. "... why?"

All three visitors were shocked at his voice; none of them had expected him to speak. "Why what, Thomas?"

"... why did you come?"

Annie seemed confused by the question. "Because we wanted to see you."

"Why?"

"Because we love you Thomas," Clarabel whispered gently. 

"... w-why?" Thomas asked again, his voice breaking. 

"Why what?"

"Why do you love me?"

The coaches looked as if they had just been bumped like trucks; Thomas kept speaking: "... why do you care about me, why did you come, why does anyone care about me? Why do you love me, when I'm not worth loving?"

"Thomas..." Percy was heartbroken, seeing his best friend crying and in such a state. 

"... and why am I not s-scrapped yet?" Thomas asked, before bursting into tears along with his two ever-faithful and loving coaches and companions, the three of them heartbroken and hurting and very miserable. It was just too much to take.

That night, Percy still shivered as he heard Thomas' howls of misery and depression and worthlessness echoing in his dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

The opening of the branch line to Harwick was filled with pomp and circumstance. It was a relatively subdued affair for those involved; Stephen had been selected to open the line in Thomas' absence. Speeches were made and smiles worn as the parade ran through the town and to the terminus at the end of the line. Skiff's Railboat Tours opened to mass crowds and huge successes. Passengers filled Daisy's seats and the first ballast train was pulled ceremonially by Ryan. The construction vehicles were honoured for their work.

And yet the whole affair was subdued, quiet, less celebratory than before. Thomas, the engine who had helped and worked the line, who had done so much and given so much, was not there. He had still not left the Steamworks, nor had his coaches - other engines and other coaches worked in his place. He sat in the quiet and damp, alone and hurting. When anyone came to see him or speak to him, he ignored them, and when they left he wept. The only engine he responded to was Victor, who inquired about any physical pains he had and gave him small tests of ability.

Mostly, he slept. He slept and dreamed, and Annie and Clarabel fretted for him and gave him love and support and care that he desperately needed. They cared for him like no one else had.

At least, like one other had.

Ryan slowly puffed into the Steamworks again; it was the day after the line had been opened and he was checking in on Thomas, as he had every day since the breakdown two weeks prior. He was very worried for his new friend; he wanted to help Thomas and be there for him. He wanted to care for him and help him feel whole again. Perhaps it was love...? Perhaps close friendship? Perhaps nothing? All Ryan knew was that he wanted to be there, to care for him, to help him.

And soon he had arrived.

"Thomas?"

Thomas stayed silent as ever, his eyes closed. Annie and Clarabel, in another part of the Steamworks, dozed. Perhaps Thomas too was asleep?

"... T-Thomas, are you awake?" Ryan asked again, slightly off-put by his silence. 

One eye opened, then closed again. A tear trickled from his eye softly. 

"Oh Thomas..." Ryan's heart broke, seeing the little blue engine in this state of sadness. "Please, c-can you at least look at me? It's polite to look when s-someone is talking to you."

Thomas slowly opened his eyes, his face etched with depression and darkness. He looked hundreds of years older; his eyes were watery and wet from inner pain and suffering. The little blue engine was hurting, and no mistake; his eyes pierced Ryan's as they locked. 

Ryan slowly moved forwards; almost by instinct. He didn't know why at that moment, nor would he stop. Slowly, ever slowly, he moved to the broken and defeated tank engine, easing towards him. His eyes never left him, locked on him with trust and compassion, as he felt himself growing slightly redder. 

A soft touch, almost featherlight, on his buffers - Thomas felt Ryan's buffers touch his, and looked up with tears spilling out already. He was hurt and alone and suffering, despite Ryan's closeness. He felt alone, he was alone, he was nothing and worth nothing, all for naught... a sob escaped him as he trembled, hurting deeply. He breathed in to try to calm himself-

Ryan kissed his lips. 

It was a soft and gentle kiss, one not of passion or intensity. His lips were so soft and full, so light and tender and sweet. The tank engine felt his boiler flare as he wept from shock, hurt, and a new feeling inside... Thomas did not know what he felt completely.

But he knew he needed Ryan right now. He needed Ryan to stay. 

After a moment, or maybe ten, Ryan slowly broke their kiss. His eyes were half-closed, his blush as deep as anything. With lips wet from Thomas' tears, he felt his own mind racing with shock, the gravity of his actions hitting him as he realized what he had done. 

And Thomas whimpered softly, tears flowing freely as he looked to Ryan with a look of pure trust and desperate need to hold on, the last shred of value left in his life.

Before he could even speak, Ryan kissed him again, his lips like an aphrodisiac to calm and soothe Thomas. He wept openly, kissing so softly as he shuddered, needing this, truly needing love and care and attention. He needed to be loved. 

He needed to be appreciated. 

He needed to have a reason. 

A reason to survive. 

And Ryan was that reason.

Ryan made him alive. 

Ryan was kissing him. 

He loved Ryan. 

And with that, Thomas slowly closed his eyes, his lips going slack as he passed out. Ryan gasped, backing off in shock and surprise, horrified as he hurried to find Victor.


	5. Chapter 5

Thomas had been put under a close watch after passing out earlier, while workers swarmed around him to check his diagnostics. Ryan was standing near Victor, shuddering as the small red engine examined his friend closely. The purple tank engine had told him everything that had happened, leaving out no details. He needed to know, after all; what if something had happened? What if HE had done something? What if Ryan had hurt Thomas, his friend and ally and lo-

"Ryan?"

Ryan blinked, blushing as he was brought back to reality. "Oh; s-sorry Victor. Yes?"

Victor grimaced, the red engine concerned and upset. “We’re finishing diagnostics on Thomas; he seems to have suffered from a panic attack caused by stress. Perhaps it was your declaration of love that made him weakened. Physically he seems to be recovering; hopefully he should have strength back in a day or two.”

Ryan sighed in relief; it was certainly wonderful news... at least, part of it was. “Thank you, Victor.” He yawned subtly; sleep had escaped him for several hours now. His steam swirled gently as his paint began to show signs of unkemptness, slight dullness. 

“Sleep, my friend. All will be well,” Victor admonished. “There is no more you can do for now. Tomorrow is a new day.”

“And Thomas?”

Victor paused. “I have to recommend he not return to work for the moment. He will need to speak with a therapist. In his state of mind I do not think it would be wise to let him return to work... when Sir Topham-“

Ryan’s steam flared. “Please, don’t mention that man’s name,” he said quietly, and both of them were surprised at how upset Ryan seemed to be becoming. “He and Gordon both hurt Thomas very badly. They made him like this...”

Victor paused, ever neutral. “They played a part in his current state, yes... but not the entirety. While Thomas was being a bit boastful and full of himself, their actions were not so fully justified.”

“It hurts, Victor...”

“Hmm? What does?”

“Love.” Ryan’s eyes closed, a soft tear falling from the tank engine’s face. “Love hurts... I’m sorry, Victor; I didn’t mean to be so rude.”

The red engine smiled softly. “That’s quite all right, my friend. Just calm yourself... you need sleep as well. The morning will come...” Softly, he began to hum a quiet lullaby - Ryan caught a faint lyrics of what friends were for, before his tired eyes fell and sleep finally washed over him in a dreamless lull. 

***

Slowly, the eyes began to flutter open, awareness beginning to catch up with him once again. His sleep had been so deep... almost limitless... he could scarce remember anything. 

And then he noticed the other engine, purple paintwork clear in the night, and he remembered. Closing his eyes, he trembled and let a tear fall from his face. Drip, drip, drip... his happiness, seemingly his whole soul, dripping away drop by precious droplet. He didn’t deserve the other engine’s kindness, his comfort... his love...

He wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth loving. That point had been made abundantly clear time and again... he really would be best if he were to end... cease... fail...

Slowly he shook... how far could he fall to end? Surely no farther than he had already fallen...

Thomas cried the rest of the night, stopping only when he passed out once again.


	6. Chapter 6

The Fat Controller stepped forwards slowly, feet making a rhythmic sound on the pavement of the Steamworks floor. He had his hat in his hands, moving carefully and looking like a visitor to one who was grievously ill. Which, Victor supposed, was not entirely inaccurate. His tank engine sat on the rails before him, trembling in a strange mixture of emotions that none but he could decipher. 

Thomas was shivering as he watched the man whom he could not bear to see, could not bear to hurt, who had hurt him as he deserved, approached. His first session with a therapist was scheduled for the following day - he was to be resting until then. 

And then he spoke. “Thomas? How are you feeling?” His voice seemed calm, almost fatherly - but Thomas was deeply troubled yet and had difficulty believing anyone, ANYONE, could think of him in such a way. 

“F-fine, sir,” Thomas mumbled quietly, breaking the man’s heart to hear how timid his voice had become. Certainly nothing like the voice that normally carried such a cheeky lilt of happiness and innocence to it... now there was depth and pain and sadness marring it. And he was the cause. 

“Would you like me to leave?” Sir Topham asked quietly, trying to be ever respectful of his fractured engine. “Just say the word, Thomas, and I shall leave you alone. I just wanted to see how you were getting on, and to tell you your branchline is ready for you when you are.”

Thomas blinked softly, a tear threatening to fall. “... why?”

“Thomas? It’s your branchline, of course...” He frowned, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

“... why am I here? Why did you not scrap me?” Thomas spoke quietly yet calmly, every word laced with pain and hurt, betrayal and deep upset within each breath, as if it were a struggle to even breathe. Which, he supposed, it was. “Why do you pretend to care about me, Sir? What use am I?”

“Thomas-“ the man began, but his engine was far from finished. 

“Why am I even still here?” Thomas asked, tears falling once more. “I’m not trustworthy t-to do anything right... I ruined the coaches, I lost the rails, hurt R-Ryan... oh...” At this, he paused, a fresh wave of guilt and nausea washing over him - his crush, and what had he done?

“Thomas...” Sir Topham’s voice was quiet and caring.

“A-and I cause so much trouble on that branch line... races and accidents... I l-lied about Geoffrey; you can’t even trust me... why not scrap me and save the trouble; get another engine who’s worthy of this number...”

Victor immediately rolled up, frowning in hurt and sympathy for Thomas. “I’m sorry, Sir; you need to leave now. Thomas needs his rest and his psychologist. I would not recommend returning until then.” His eyes, however, motioned to a far corner away from Thomas, to speak further. 

Sir Topham received his message clearly. “I am so sorry, Thomas. For everything. I know you probably don’t believe me, but I do care about you and wish you well.” And he walked away, top hat twirling glumly in his hands, disappointed as he heard the soft sounds of Thomas’ weeping behind him. 

“Well, Victor?” He asked after joining the red Steamworks engine.

Victor sighed softly, looking every bit as old as he felt. “Sir, he is physically repaired but mentally damaged. His mental state is fragile - he has no hope and feels worthless. This psychologist should help him, we hope. In the meantime I would recommend not returning to see him until he’s had a chance to heal.”

Sir Topham hung his head sadly - he had expected that. “Don’t worry, Sir,” Victor reassured him. “He needs time to learn how much he is worth, before you can show him. He’s very worried even now about letting Ryan so close to him.”

“Ryan? What’s he got to do with things?”

“The two are in love - well, Ryan is. Thomas can’t believe it yet - he really cannot. And he needs that love. He needs to feel like he’s worth something to someone. Otherwise I cannot recommend him going back to work.”

“Why did I not know about this? My engines are-“

“Your engine, the one that matters, was hurt because you failed to listen and see what was happening around you. Now it’s happened again.” Victor steamed away, saying quietly yet firmly. “You have remorse, Sir, but you need to learn your lesson.”

And he puffed away, leaving a solemn man alone to contemplate his actions and see what a week, a month, a lifetime of his actions had and could still cost him.


End file.
